Prime Directive Ultimate
by zCrystaline
Summary: After surviving a chaotic battle on a foreign world, Kirk brings a human child aboard the Enterprise for safekeeping. However, Spock's suspicions about the child's identity may jeopardize the safety and sanity of the entire crew in days to come.


Prime Directive Ultimate, a Star Trek fanfiction

presented by zCrystaline

Chapter 1: Leonard

Great stanchions of fire rose from among the desert sands, flying skyward and reflecting the glory of the sun in the form of ridiculously hot waves of heat upon the bare back of Captain James T. Kirk. At the moment he was knelt in the sand with both arms and his entire body protecting the smaller body of a dark-haired child. The planet's military forces were closing in, and with his first officer unconscious and countless crewmen lying dead or severely injured upon the ground, Kirk saw no other option than to shout into his communicator: "Scotty, energize!"

The child was immediately taken to sickbay, where Kirk practically pushed him through the door before running off down the hall, shouting over his shoulder, "Take care of him until I come back, Bones!" McCoy sighed and looked into the child's face, which was caked with a gritty mixture of sand and the blood of his enemies. His clothes, too, were tattered and beyond even the miracle of OxiClean.

"Christine, are you busy?" McCoy called, never moving his gaze from the small child's dark eyes. There seemed to be a trace of delight in their depths as the child recalled what had happened.

"Of course I'm busy, there are over three dozen patients waiting to be treated!" came Chapel's curt response. The CMO felt whatever hope he had left fade away: there would likely be little to no drinking over the course of this mission. Instead it seemed that he'd be treating blood-spattered patients, declaring crewman after crewman to be dead when a machine could just as easily reach the same conclusion, staying up that night and probably the next sitting by a man's bedside and assuring him that it was all over when he inevitably awoke in the early hours of gamma shift, and to top it all off looking after a small boy who couldn't be any older than six.

"Let's get you cleaned up," McCoy said at last.

Meanwhile, Kirk had successfully managed to escape his usual responsibilities as captain, giving Sulu access to The Throne of Power while he left the bridge to go to sickbay. But he didn't actually intend to go to sickbay; that part had been a lie. What he was actually going to do was wait in a certain yeoman's private quarters—a tiger waiting for its prey.

Upon using his override ability to enter the room, the captain stripped down to nothing but his boots and stretched across the bed in a sensual manner. He retained this pose for several minutes until the doors came open again and Yeoman Janice Rand entered the room. She didn't seem to notice him at first and walked over to the tiny mirror, where she began to take down her ridiculously complicated hair. "Leave it," Kirk said quickly, "I like it that way."

"Captain?" Rand turned and received a view of the captain in all his sexy glory. Her eyes widened and she lowered her hands to her sides. "Captain Kirk, are you feeling alright?"

"I feel great," Kirk replied, standing. He moved close to her and reached to take off her dress. "But I'm about to feel even better..."

Meanwhile, McCoy had finished scrubbing dried blood and dirt from the face and arms of the small boy. "Here, now why don't you try this on?" he suggested, handing the child a t-shirt and pair of pants. "Let me know if they don't fit and I'll try the machine again—it has a tendency to skew orders."

Just then, a whistle pierced the air, and Kirk's strained voice came through: "Captain Kirk to McCoy. There's a medical emergency in Yeoman Rand's quarters."

"On my way," the CMO replied, and shouted in Chapel's direction, "Christine, could you watch the kid while I go take care of this?" He left without waiting for a response, running down corridors for what seemed like a long time before he finally reached the yeoman's private quarters. The door opened immediately after he pressed the buzzer, and he rushed inside. "What's the em—"

His words stopped in his throat as he entered the room, only to find Captain Kirk and Yeoman Rand in a rather compromising position. McCoy looked away, covering his eyes with one hand. "Thank God you're here, Bones," Kirk said. "We need sexual protection ASAP."

"But..." McCoy could hardly make himself speak. "But this isn't a medical emergency!"

"You're right—it's a SEXUAL EMERGENCY."

McCoy stumbled backward, still trying desperately to avoid tainting his mind with further glimpses of Rand—and especially the captain—completely nude and about to perform certain acts of sexual gratification. As CMO, he'd seen them both without much in the way of clothing on more than one occasion, but that was in an environment of medical study and not in a situation... like this. "Go on, Doctor, you heard the captain's order," the yeoman said, her voice low and seductive.

Kirk briefly bit her ear before once again turning to the CMO. "C'mon, Bones, I can't deprive this fine specimen of a woman her wildest and most erotic dreams any longer. Do you want us to do it WITHOUT protection? Because that just means another kid for you to look after, you know. Speaking of which, where is the kid? I asked you to keep up with him."

"Are you suggesting that I should have brought him HERE?" McCoy snapped. He turned on one foot and stormed out of the room, leaving Kirk and Rand to spend some quality time together.

Meanwhile, Spock was finally coming around after the incident on the planet below. Having found the child in the basement of an evil laboratory, Spock had rushed outside only to be knocked unconscious by a harsh blow to the back of the head. Fortunately, it seemed as if the child was unharmed; when Spock opened his eyes to find himself in sickbay, Nurse Chapel standing over him, he was also greeted with the face of the boy, who was standing at Chapel's side and holding her hand.

"Mr. Spock? How do you feel?" the nurse asked. Her expression was one of great concern.

"Aside from a slight headache, I am perfectly fine. May I return to my duties on the bridge?"

"Absolutely not!" came the resolute voice of McCoy. Spock almost felt the urge to roll his eyes—almost. "You're not leaving sickbay until I perform a thorough physical."

Spock weighed his options before deciding that an argument with the doctor was probably pointless. "Very well," he said. Then, gesturing to the boy, he added, "While you are working in the lab, I request that you perform a DNA test on the child."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

"I believe he may be a genetically-enhanced clone—the equipment and files in the laboratory seemed to suggest that possibility."

"I'll take the blood sample, Doctor," Chapel offered. She led the child into another room upon receiving a nod of agreement from the CMO.

An hour passed as McCoy performed Spock's physical and Nurse Chapel ran the bloodwork. Her sudden, horrified scream made Spock's feeling of uneasiness spike to full-blown nausea. Both he and McCoy rushed into the lab, where they found her in a corner, cowering in fear as the small child stared her down. Spock moved to the child's side and restrained him while McCoy went to Nurse Chapel. "What is it, Christine? What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything," Chapel sobbed, tears streaming down her face. She managed to calm herself slightly as McCoy held her in his arms. Finally she bit out, "I got back the results of the DNA test... And there... There was a match..."

Spock's expression reflected great interest. The child was not struggling, but instead seemed to be listening.

"Who is he, Christine? What was the match?" McCoy asked.

"He's... The match is..." The nurse shut her eyes and another pair of tears escaped. "The match is ADOLF HITLER!"

The huge revelation could be heard all over the ship. On the bridge, Sulu and Chekov tensed as a power beyond their control forced blood to spurt from their ears. Uhura rose to help them but instead cried in pain as she, too, felt the hot liquid escape her body in a burst of suffering, spattering her already-red dress and running down the sides of her neck. The communications officer struggled to stand as her legs began to shake uncontrollably. "WHAT IS GOING ON?" Sulu shouted above the echo of Nurse Chapel's fateful words. But no one could hear him; it was as if there was no sound in the universe aside from Adolf Hitler's heinous name.

Meanwhile, Captain Kirk and Yeoman Rand had finished their romantic rendezvous and Kirk was beginning to get dressed. Although the sound of Hitler's name had reached everyone else aboard the ship, it didn't penetrate the ears of Rand because she was too busy having her mind blown by the captain. "I need to go," Kirk said as he picked up his shirt. He changed his mind and tossed the shirt to the side, opting instead to go around in his pants and boots. "I sense that something is very, very wrong on the _Enterprise_."

He left Rand's quarters only to find half a dozen crewmen lying unconscious in the hallway, blood pooling on the ground and spattered against the wall. He checked one of them to be sure they were still alive and thought to himself, _What do I need Bones for, anyway?_

Upon entering the medical lab, he found Chapel practically crushing the life out of McCoy in a formidable embrace, her fingers digging into his back as he attempted to calm her. Spock had pinned the small child to the floor. All three of the crew members appeared panicked, and all three had blood trickling from their ears. "Just what exactly is going on here?" Kirk demanded.

"We ran a blood test on the boy, Jim," McCoy gasped. Chapel finally released him and he took in a long breath. "It came back with a one-hundred percent match from our database."

"Don't keep me in suspense," Kirk said. Spock and McCoy exchanged a glance.

"The match," Spock said at last, rising from his position on the floor, "Was to an infamous twentieth century leader and politician from the planet earth—one best known for his single-party dictatorship over the country of Germany." Kirk parted his lips to speak, but Spock added, "I believe it would be wise not to say his name any longer, Captain." He gestured to the side of his face, which was green with still-wet blood.

Suddenly, Chapel emitted a sharp gasp, and she returned to the arms of the doctor. "Christine? Christine, are you alright?"

"Leonard..." she breathed. "LEONARD!"

Just then, the child—who had been sitting on the floor of the lab for the past few minutes—leaped to his feet and threw himself onto Spock, screaming, "JEW! JEW!" Kirk stood by in shock for a moment before reaching to help. The child managed to scratch the Vulcan's neck and rip the collar of his shirt as Kirk grabbed his arms and pinned him to the ground once again.

Behind them, McCoy had lowered Chapel to the floor and was checking her pulse with his hand. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand and pushed it away; a smile transformed her terrified expression into a benevolent one. "Leonard," she said a final time, and McCoy lowered his head.

"She's dead, Jim."

A searing pain flared through the captain's head, and the last word to escape the nurse's lips seemed to echo in his mind. But he ignored it for the time being and focused on the problem at hand. The child had ceased to struggle against him but remained their biggest obstacle. "It killed her... Just saying his name... killed her," he whispered dramatically.

"I guess we'll have to come up with something else to call him," McCoy said. Although his tone was little more than uneasy, the fact that his hands were visibly shaking seemed to suggest just how heavily he was affected by Chapel's death.

Kirk merely stared at him for a moment before saying, "No, don't give him a name. It'll only make it more difficult when we have to kill him."

This caught the CMO's attention. "What are you..." He shook his head and started over. "Kill him? What on earth are you talking about?"

"You saw what he tried to do to Spock. He could represent a huge threat to this ship and the world at large. Can you imagine if he'd waited until Spock was asleep?" Before McCoy could argue, the captain added, "Besides, could you really let him live, knowing who he was cloned from? You said it yourself, Bones: a one-hundred percent match."

"Who he was cloned from is irrelevant!" McCoy shot back. "People aren't genetically predisposed to act a certain way—there are small genetic influences, sure, but the majority of a person's personality is determined by their experiences, the way they're treated by other people." He turned to Spock, convinced that the Vulcan would back him up.

"This is logical," Spock said. "However, the child's decision to attack me—apparently due to his belief that I am of Jewish heritage—suggests that his creators were already training him to become the hateful and irredeemable person he was in earth's twentieth century."

McCoy's face fell. "You wouldn't kill a child..." It sounded more like a question than anything, and the expression on the doctor's face betrayed his utter surprise and disappointment.

"If we must," answered Kirk, "Then we will."

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER

"We must all share the guilt for this," Kirk said to the group of people in the room, which consisted of Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty. The child was also present. "That is why I have decided that each of us must deal a blow to this most heinous of creatures. That way we all share in the blame, and can remember this event as a joint effort rather than the decision of a single person. No one else must ever know about this, and no official or personal logs can speak of it. Are we all in agreement?"

Everyone said "Aye," in unison, except for one person: McCoy. Kirk eyed him for a moment afterward but said nothing and moved on.

"Very well. Everyone choose your weapon."

Spock was the first to move, reaching for what appeared to be a ridiculously heavy battle ax. He tested it with one sharp movement before nodding in satisfaction and stepping back. Next, Chekov approached the pile of weaponry and chose at random, drawing a short sword from the top of the pile. Sulu, too, settled on a blade: his, however, was a katana, extremely well-crafted with a beautiful shimmer. Uhura selected a mace with three separate chains, sure to inflict terrible pain and suffering. Scotty grabbed one of the few remaining weapons, a bow and several arrows.

Kirk took a phaser, perhaps admiring its ability to end the child's life as quickly as possible. _He must intend to perform the final attack,_ McCoy told himself. He, too, stepped forward to take a weapon under the watchful gaze of the captain and the other crew members: some sort of projective firearm that he didn't recognize.

To the doctor's surprise, Uhura volunteered to go first, perhaps in order to get her part of the execution over with. Raising the mace above her head in a ridiculously threatening gesture, she swung it down with all her strength into the child's back. He cried out in pain and sank to the floor, blood already staining his clothes. McCoy felt his stomach lurch; it had been only one day since he had the computer generate those clothes for the boy. It had been only one day since he washed the blood and dirt from the boy's delicate face. Uhura seemed unmoved and returned to the circle of crewmen which surrounded the child.

Next were Sulu and Chekov, who decided to go at the same time. They each stood ready as the child was ordered to stand by the captain. As soon as he was on his feet, they swung their swords in unison, slicing through fabric and flesh. The child sank to the floor again, where he remained as both Scotty and Spock took their turns. The Chief Engineer fired three arrows into the child's back and one more into his left leg before withdrawing. It sickened McCoy to see that even Scotty, a gentle man seemingly incapable of such evil, felt no remorse at the sight of the pain he was inflicting.

When Spock approached the child's quivering body, the doctor paid close attention to the Vulcan science officer's expression. It was as calm and logical as ever, and it remained that way throughout his portion of the execution. Taking the ridiculously heavy ax in both hands, the Vulcan lifted it level to his eyes and brought it back down with just as much strength and vigor as McCoy had ever seen. The doctor actually fought to keep from vomiting as the ax separated the child's right hand from the rest of his body. As a doctor aboard the _Enterprise,_ he'd seen far worse and was well aware of it. There was something different about this, however: as often as he disagreed with Spock, and as much as the Vulcan frustrated him, there was a compassion to Spock that McCoy couldn't—and wouldn't—put into words. Or at least there had been, but not anymore.

As Spock withdrew, still appearing rather aloof, McCoy began to step forward, swallowing hard as he felt his heart beat within his chest. But an arm shot out and stopped him: the arm of the captain. "Jim," McCoy began, "What are you..."

His voice trailed off as Kirk shook his head. The captain then moved into position beside the child, adjusting his phaser while doing so. The boy was beyond the point of screaming; now he was merely lying there in a state of shock. McCoy found that standing still when he could be saving someone's life was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Slowly, Kirk raised the phaser to chest level, aiming it down at the boy's body. A wave of relief washed over the CMO as he realized that Kirk wasn't going to force him to attack the child. However, that wave of relief turned into pure, ice-cold shock and adrenaline when the captain fired not once, but three times. The child's body shook in what could only be described as wild spasms. The phaser was set to stun. McCoy would have to kill the child. His legs shook and the weapon in his hands threatened to clatter to the ground.

Perhaps seeing that McCoy couldn't do what needed to be done on his own, Kirk moved to his side and supported the front of the weapon with one hand while keeping the other placed firmly between the doctor's shoulder blades. When it became clear that McCoy didn't intend to fire the weapon, Kirk removed the hand from the front of the weapon, allowing it to fall to the side slightly. Now, rather than being aimed at the child's trunk, it was instead tilted in the direction of his legs. Kirk placed a finger over McCoy's on the trigger and applied the necessary pressure. McCoy couldn't tell if he, too, had helped to pull the trigger or not.

Massive waves of pure flame exploded from the front of the weapon as the captain continued to hold the CMO's finger against the trigger. He released it as soon as the boy's legs had caught fire; the boy found his voice again and began to scream as the flames made their way across his body, immediately ravaging the already bloody and tattered clothing McCoy had given him and beginning to burn through layer upon layer of flesh.

"No," McCoy bit out, and couldn't fight the feeling of nausea any longer. He turned away from the child momentarily and threw up on the floor, whirling around as soon as he was finished. He couldn't stand to look away if he could help it. He had to witness what he and the others had done.

But as the fire continued to slowly lick away at the child's increasingly shapeless form, McCoy found that he could not stand it any longer. In one movement, he tore the ax away from Spock and brought it down hard upon the child's neck. Blood began to bubble out of the child's mouth as he continued to scream, a gargling noise rising from deep in his throat. McCoy raised the ax again and tried once more to separate the head from the neck, this time getting a much better result. The remaining connections between the two chunks of flesh and bone were severed, and the child went quiet.

While McCoy broke down, falling to his knees in the pool of blood and watching as the fire continued to rage, Kirk contemplated Chapel's final word. A word which—although quite familiar, being the name of one of his closest friends—called something else to mind. A word which seemed impossibly important somehow.

Leonard...


End file.
